


Being Frank

by moonblossom



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Humour, M/M, POV Alternating, Pets as Metaphors, Pre-Slash, Vignettes, guinea pigs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-22
Updated: 2014-01-22
Packaged: 2018-01-09 16:37:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1148269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonblossom/pseuds/moonblossom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maybe getting Cas a guinea pig wasn't such a good idea. Or maybe it was the best idea of all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Being Frank

**Author's Note:**

> My first attempt at Supernatural fanfic. It started as a brief exploration of the guinea pig conversation from S09E11 and turned, as things in my control often do, into fluff. Variable POV, a series of sequential but disconnected vignettes.
> 
> Thanks to Urban for looking this over <3

_You have a guinea pig? Where?_

Cas's words echo around in Sam's head. He turns to Dean, who's busily picking something off the sole of his boot with a knife.

"Could you do that outside?"

Dean rolls his eyes. "What does it matter? I'm the one who does all the cleaning around here."

"I think we should get Cas a guinea pig."

"What for?" Dean cocks his head, clearly confused.

"Why do you usually get a pet?"

"How the hell should I know, Sammy? It's not like we ever had time for goldfish or dogs or whatever when we were kids."

Sam sighs, shrugging his broad shoulders. Maybe he'll just bring one home next time he goes out.

***

It's small, and beige, and strangely grumpy looking. The first thing Dean thinks when Sam brought it home is that it looks like Cas. Eyes are the wrong colour though. Do they make guinea pigs with blue eyes?

"Did you do that on purpose?"

"Do what?" Sam's eyes are glittering with innocence. S'not gonna work this time, damn it.

"It... it looks like him. It's cute, but it looks like him. How does that work?"

The knowing smirk on Sam's face is enough to make Dean spin on his heels and stomp out into the open main room of the bunker.

"CAS! C'mere!"

"Yes Dean?" Bastard's right behind him. He's gotta stop doing that.

"Sammy got you a present." Dean points at the cage, sitting in the middle of the table. The cage smells of cedar chips and hay and that weird guinea-pig smell. As soon as Cas steps over and puts his hand flat on the top of the cage, the thing starts making these weird little happy car-alarm noises, and the strange look on Cas's face is almost worth the hassle.

***

Dean's sitting on the couch, drinking a beer when Cas wanders in, carrying the stupid grunting thing. "Did you remember to feed it?"

Cas squints and stares vaguely at Dean, like it's taking him a moment to process.

"His name is Frank, Dean. He is not an it."

Dean splutters, lifting his feet off the coffee table and putting them flat on the floor. Cas looks so confused, so sincere, that he bites his cheek to stop from laughing.

"Frank?! That's... not a very good name for a guinea pig."

Cas looks down at the little lump of fur, scratching it on the head. "What would you have suggested?"

"I dunno. Something cute. Butterscotch? Peanut?" Dean shrugs, taking another swig of beer to quell the urge to laugh.

"Those are foods, Dean. Not names. He told me his name was Frank. Perhaps you can give him a nickname. Isn't that what you do to things you like or find adorable?"

"Sure, Cas."

***

Frank must be tired of the confines of the small cage Sam bought. There are so many interesting things here in the bunker, he should be able to explore. Cas opens the gate of the cage, gently lifting Frank out and placing him on the floor.

***

"CAS?!" Dean's voice has that edge to it, the one that makes Cas nervous for reasons he doesn't quite comprehend.

"Yes, Dean?" Dean called from the kitchen, so now Cas is in the kitchen.

"Why the hell are there guinea pig turds on my kitchen floor? And an empty cage on the table?"

Cas frowns. Surely, the answer is obvious? "Well, Dean, one is related to the other. I let Frank out, and haven't figured out how to train him not to defecate on the floor yet."

"It was a rhetorical question, damn it. Where is he?"

Cas cocks his head, staring intently at Dean while waiting for him to continue.

"Cas?"

"Yes?"

"That one wasn't rhetorical. Where is the god damned guinea pig?"

***

It's Sam who finds him, three days later, nestled into one of his drawers. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all. But really, what's one ruined plaid shirt out of so many?

He lifts Frank up and carries him back down to the main room, chuckling at Cas' look of relief and Dean's mingled look of frustration and amusement.

***

Dean squats down, studying the body and prodding it with his toe. There's not much left, really. Same as the last three. He's trying to sort his thoughts out when that familiar _wheep-wheep-wheep_ cuts through his head like feedback.

He stands up, dusts his hands off on his thighs, and turns around to stare at Cas, who has his hand in one of the huge pockets on that damned coat of his and doesn't even have the decency to look sheepish about it.

"No."

He blinks, those damned distracting blue eyes glinting in the dim.

"No Frank, Cas. Not on a job." Christ, he's even calling the damned thing Frank now. They're all lost causes. And fuck, Cas just looks really dejected right about now. Dean's about to step forwards and pat him on the back, he catches himself just in time.

"Just, keep an eye on him this time, alright?"

"Yes, Dean. I will leave him at home in the future."

"Yeah, sure." Keep telling yourself that, buddy. You'll leave him at home until he's found a way to burrow himself into every bloody aspect of your life, and things just feel inherently wrong unless he's around. Dean shakes his head and tries to convince himself he's still talking about the stupid animal.

***

Dean is lounging on the sofa, half-heartedly watching television. Quietly, Cas sits down at the far end, Frank mumbling happily in his hands. He scratches that spot between the ears where his fur sticks up, constantly unruly no matter how hard Cas tries to tame it. Dean looks up at him and smiles. It's a tiny smile, warm and genuine, the kind he only really uses here in the bunker. He pokes Cas with his toes and pats his chest.

"Bring him here, would you?"

Cas studies the animal. "I haven't quite trained him not to defeca--"

"Shut up and give me the guinea pig. If he poops, he poops."

Gently, he places Frank on Dean's chest, feeling the tiny rapid flutter of the animal's heart and the slow, steady thrum of Dean's own through his fingers.

They stay quiet for a while, Cas watching Dean, Dean watching the television and absently scratching Frank around the ears. It's Dean who breaks the silence.

"You're not so bad, you know? I thought I'd regret letting you in, but at the end of the day, I think you're worth the hassle."

Castiel furrows his brows, confused at the gentle warmth running through his chest.

"Thank you, Dean."

It's only later that night that he realises Dean was probably referring to the animal. Which makes the fact that he didn't correct Cas all the more perplexing.


End file.
